𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬

Chapter 25

•••

"You are my qibla, the direction to which my heart turns in devotion."

•••

Osman’s dark eyes flashed as he tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Repeat it,” he said, his voice calm yet commanding, sending a shiver down Aamirah’s spine.

Her lips parted in surprise, her throat dry as she stammered and went inside her blanket within a sec, “Don’t… don’t sleep beside me. And I’m not afraid of you.” Her voice faltered but held a defiant edge, though the trembling of her hands betrayed her fear.

Osman’s eyes narrowed, but to her surprise, instead of reprimanding her, he chuckled—a deep, low sound that seemed to fill the room. He shook his head lightly, amusement flickering in his gaze.

Aamirah blinked in confusion, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of his reaction. She had been bracing for his anger, not… laughter.

It unnerved her, and she pulled the blanket up to her chin, trying to shield herself from whatever mood he was in.

The sound of his footsteps reached her ears, and her heart sank. She knew he was approaching the bed. Of course, this was his house, his room; it had been naïve of her to think he would listen to her.

Yet her breath hitched when she felt his presence right behind her, followed by a sudden, firm pull.

Osman’s strong arm wrapped around her waist, effortlessly pulling her toward him. Her back collided with his chest, the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric of her nightgown.

She froze, her breath caught in her throat, as the realization dawned—he wasn’t wearing a shirt now, though he was wearing one just a second ago. Her hair stood on end as she felt his breath on her nape, slow and steady, sending chills down her spine.

Her heartbeat pounded so loudly she was certain he could hear it. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing the blanket could swallow her whole.

"Aap aise kyu soo rhe hain?"

“Why are you sleeping like this?” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

Osman’s lips curved into a smirk that she couldn’t see but could feel in the warmth of his breath against her ear. “Like what, wifey?” he asked, his tone laced with mock confusion.

"Aise kaise, begum?"

Aamirah’s cheeks burned at the term, hoping he won't see it, her fingers twisting the edges of the blanket nervously. “P-put something on, please ” she urged, her voice small yet desperate.

Osman didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he leaned back slightly, giving her a moment to breathe. He reached for the blanket and adjusted it over her, his movements unexpectedly gentle.

As he sat up, the light caught the bare expanse of his back, revealing an angry red mark running diagonally across his skin. The wound seems fresh.

Aamirah’s eyes widened as she sat up abruptly, her concern overriding her embarrassment. “What happened to your back?” she asked, her voice tinged with panic.

Her fingers hovered near the wound, afraid to touch it but unable to look away. “Did someone hurt you?”

Osman’s mood shifted instantly. The air in the room grew heavy, his earlier amusement replaced by a cold, distant expression. He didn’t answer, his jaw tightening as he stood, his back still facing her.